The Stuff of Legend
by Brambleshadow of WindClan
Summary: Sam and Dean are researching a possible case when the objects of their fascination show up. Or, the Tenth Doctor and Rose Tyler (also known as the stuff of legend) crash an investigation session in the bunker. Clearly, no good can come of this.


So, here's a little Whopernatural (or SuperWho, if you prefer to call it that) oneshot that was originally a rp between myself and teamfreewillsamdeancas. And it's entirely my fault, because I went and said this: "But on another hand, can we talk about how utterly _confused_ Sam and Dean would be while researching the Doctor?"

And it snowballed from there. You're welcome.

**Characters: **Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Annabelle Winchester (OFC), Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler

For the Doctor and Rose, this takes place after "Love & Monsters" but before "Fear Her." For the Winchesters, it takes place during one of the time skips in Sarah's fic _Winchester Crash Course. _(Or possibly during season 9, since they're in the bunker and all.)

This fic contains Ten/Rose fluff, slight crackiness, some language, as many music and early 2000s references as I could get away with, and flashes of Dark Doctor here and there. I also lifted a few lines from the Eighth Doctor Adventures novel _Vampire Science _by Jonathan Blum and Kate Orman.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

* * *

**The Stuff of Legend**

Dean and Sam Winchester, hiding out in the bunker, stared in confusion at the monitor on Sam's laptop, which was open to an image of a blue police box; a tall, skinny, man with brown hair styled like a punk rocker and a coat that looked suspiciously like it once belonged to Janis Joplin; and a pretty blonde woman wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. The two of them were walking through a park in order to get to the blue box—or so it looked like to Sam—and the caption beneath them read, "Have you seen these two?"

Oh, yes, the rest of the site claimed that the man was an alien who traveled in time and space and the blonde was just his latest companion.

"But . . . Aliens don't exist," Dean said, trying to convince himself but only managing to sound bewildered and irritated at the same time. "There's angels, demons, God, Death—but no aliens! What the actual fuck?!"

"And what's with this police box?" said Sam. "They don't exist anymore!"

Dean threw up his hands. "That's it. We've lost it. _We_ are insane!"

"But who's the blonde?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, but she's hot . . ."

"Dean!"

Then the door opened and the objects of their fascination casually strolled in like they owned the place. "Sorry, were you looking for us?" the Doctor said.

Dean winked at Rose. "Hey."

"No, Dean," Sam warned, glaring daggers at his brother.

If looks could kill, the look the Doctor was sending Dean would have the hunter in the special level of hell reserved for child molesters and people who talked in the theater in a second flat. "Don't you fucking dare," the Time Lord growled under his breath.

If he was honest, he'd always been very possessive of Rose and did not like it when other guys hit on her—he hated it, really.

_"Adam says he's always wanted to see the stars."_

_ "Go tell him to stand outside then."_

"Oh I see," Dean said quickly. Just in case, he slipped Rose his phone number. "If it doesn't work out," he told her hopefully, "call me." He wasn't backing off just because a pretty girl was taken; that much was for sure.

Rose just gave Dean the tongue-in-teeth grin that drove the Doctor crazy (_Oh, why does she have to do that?_ the alien thought.), subtly ripped the paper to shreds behind her back, and said, "Thanks but no thanks."

At that, the Doctor just ducked his head and rubbed his eye, trying hard not to smile. _That's my Rose._

Dean looked extremely disappointed; Sam aimed an apologetic smile at Rose. "You'll have to forgive him," the Moose said.

Dean grinned. "Pretty lady like her doesn't have to forgive anyone. She's probably breaking hearts left and right." He pointed at the Doctor. "And I bet you're next."

"My hearts are going to end up broken anyway. Just hopefully not for a long while." Rose's hand slipped into his, and she leaned back against him a little, silently reassuring him.

Both Dean and Sam looked extremely confused, though Dean's expression had a hint of jealousy.

"Hearts?" Sam asked.

"He's got two hearts," Rose explained.

"Two?" Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as he exchanged glances with Sam.

"Yep. I'm a Time Lord." A corner of the Doctor's mouth turned up in a smirk.

Sam looked awed at that revelation and smiled despite himself. "No way!"

"Yeah. You've heard of my people, then?"

"Yeah!" Sam enthused. "I mean, only in legends, but . . . whoa!"

"Geek out later, Sammy," Dean told his younger brother. "We've got work to do."

"What sort of work?" Rose asked. The Doctor raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Hunting," Dean answered bluntly. "You wouldn't like it. It involves killing things."

The Doctor exchanged glances with Rose before he barked out a laugh and quickly stifled it. "I've done plenty of that in my time, believe me."

"Yeah but you also do that thing where you give murderers a chance. We don't do that."

Sam intervened, "Dean, shut up. They're our case and you know it."

Dean just glared at his brother through narrowed eyes.

"Not in the Time War I didn't," the Doctor said shortly. "Not when dealing with Cybermen. Do you know what the Daleks call me in their legends?" The look in his eyes was suddenly dark, unforgiving.

"Oncoming Storm or Bringer of Darkness—something like that. And we're the ones monsters have nightmares about."

A teenage girl with gray eyes, light brown hair tied back in a ponytail, and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, walked in as Dean said that and eyed the group curiously. "All right, put 'em away, boys. You're all beautiful."

Rose flashed a quick smile at her. "Thanks. And you are?"

She smiled back and sat down, sticking her tongue out at Dean—who was now glaring at her. "I'm Annabelle. I suppose you two are those aliens the boys were looking for?" Dean grumbled, "Don't worry about it, Annabelle. Go practice shooting or something."

"Just did. You told me to two hours ago. I think I've got shooting a gun down and the bunker's spotless and, no, there aren't any cases nearby. Yes, I'm sure. I double checked."

Sam smiled at Annabelle. "Good work."

"Thanks."

Rose corrected her, "He's alien. I'm human."

"I imagine you're Rose then. The girl that went missing for a while then claimed to be traveling with friends even though there was no record of you being anywhere. You just disappeared off the face of the Earth?"

Rose shot a glare at the Doctor, who looked as close to sheepish as he ever got. "He messed up. Said he was bringing me home twelve hours after we left, and it turned out to be a year instead."

He scratched the back of his head. "Rose, how many times do I have to apologize? I've said I was sorry!"

"No need to fight," Annabelle said. "That's just all we could dig up on the internet."

"Yeah, we figured. Partly because of something called the Bad Wolf virus, am I right?" the Doctor said.

"No, something called 'Hey that looks like a case! If we're lucky we can get something out of her about what happened!'"

Annabelle lightly hit Dean's arm for saying that.

"We just tend to catch weird stuff like that. It's sorta our job," Sam explained.

The Doctor shrugged. "Fair enough. Though there was this one group tracking us, only they couldn't find a whole lot of information because of a virus I gave to Mickey the idiot. We do the same thing when we travel, though I can't exactly say we go _looking_ for trouble." Rose snorted at that.

"So you live in a police box?" Annabelle asked, wearing a slight grin.

"Yep," the Doctor said, popping the 'p'. "It's bigger on the inside."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Wonder how that works."

Sam looked excited. "I told you, Dean!"

"Well good for you."

The Doctor rolled his eyes at Dean, and Rose gave the hunter a sympathetic look. He asked Annabelle, "What exactly was that about us being your case?"

Rose crossed her arms over her chest. "We're nobody's _case_, ta."

Annabelle backpedaled, "Oh don't take it personally. The boys and I were just making sure you weren't insane angels set on destroying the human race. We're like 99.9% sure you're not." She said all that while smiling in a very friendly way.

"Well, good for you." Rose's tone was frosty, and the Doctor forced back a smile as he sensed a Tyler slap coming on.

Annabelle fake winced, biting her lower lip, and turned to Sam with a smile gleaming in her eyes. "I don't think she likes me."

Sam laughed a little at her remark. "Well you could've found a more delicate way to tell her we thought she wasn't human."

"Yeah, I guess I could've, but I don't think it would've been as effective."

"Uh-huh," Rose said dryly. "You think?"

Again, the Doctor tried to hide the fact he was smirking and trying not to laugh.

"Aww, don't you mess around? Besides I'm just a kid. What damage could I have possibly done?" Annabelle plastered on an innocent look.

The Doctor studied her for a minute. Then he stepped back, face drawn and eyes wide, his hair trying as hard as it could to defy all the laws of gravity. "You're not just a kid, are you?" he asked her gravely. "And if you are what I think you are . . . you could do quite a lot of damage, actually."

Her eyes slid over him almost challengingly. "Depends. What do you think I am?"

He ran through a mental list of alien species, all of the legends he'd heard of. "Charmspeaker. Probably a demigoddess, maybe a descendent of one of the Olympians or Eternals. You're half-human, at least. Or mostly human." He shrugged. "Problem is, if you are, the Olympians and Eternals are ancient enemies of my people. Same with the Great Vampire and its descendants." Rose tensed, and he shot her a _calm down _look. "Relax. I'm not going to kill her."

"I'm completely human, thank you very much," Annabelle snapped. "As for the charmspeak . . . I haven't tried it out."

"And if you so much as touch her you'll find a blade through at least one of your hearts," Dean said protectively.

The Doctor felt his upper lip curl. "Cute. But touch me, and you bleed. Got that?"

Sam took a step back, but Annabelle and Dean were both too stubborn to show any discomfort. Annabelle continued with the previous conversation as if nothing happened: "You got about one percent of why I can do a lot of damage right. Think you can pull anything else up, Time Lord?"

He narrowed his eyes, studied her timeline. "Your entire family was killed in a wendigo attack. Sam and Dean here found you, took you in. You're also the most important pawn in this war between heaven and hell, but I don't— Ah, I see. Interesting. One drop of either demon or angel blood and you have enough power to potentially destroy the whole universe—or, if not the universe, at least this solar system. Now, how did you—?" His eyes widened briefly, and he raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "God-given gift, my—"

"Doctor!" Rose scolded him.

He looked back, saw she was giving him a stern look. "What?" he asked.

"Being rude again."

"Good. I meant that one."

"Impressive." Annabelle ran her eyes over him again. "Bet you have lots of fun running around the universe pissing people off."

"Weeelllll, I try not to. Really. My gob says stuff before my brain catches up, and usually I don't know when I'm being rude. Can't help it—I'm rude and not ginger this time around."

"That's cute. Do you tell everyone that?" Annabelle's gray eyes were wide with false curiosity and her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Nope. Ask Rose."

Rose rolled her eyes but said, "He doesn't. And really, half the time he doesn't even realize when he's being rude. As for the 'rude and not ginger' thing . . . it's a long story."

"Yeah. A long story that Sam, Dean, and I really don't care about. As for my 'gift', I wouldn't say it's 'God-given' especially since God doesn't give a shit what happens to us."

The Doctor's mouth quirked in something that might be a smirk—or the start of a snarl—but it was gone before they could be sure. "If he even exists, yeah, he probably doesn't. But if he does . . . maybe he's stayed away for so long because he's scared of what he created."

"He better be," Annabelle said bitterly. "His little 'gift' has caused far too much pain and suffering."

Rose stared at the Doctor. "Isn't that from _Spy Kids_?"

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Um, no. Don't think so," he squeaked. "Okay, maybe."

"Aliens quote movies now?" Dean was unamused and stared coldly at the Doctor.

"Blame Rose. She's the one who wanted to watch it," the Time Lord defended himself.

"Hey!"

"Well, you _did_. And anyway, that's not the point here!"

"What is the point here?" Annabelle asked. "You two came into our home and you"—she looked pointedly at the Doctor—"have managed to get on all of our nerves."

"Not mine!" Sam said cheerfully.

Annabelle gave him a look that said _You can't be serious_.

The Doctor began, "Well, considering you lot were the ones investigating us in the first place—"

"It's our _job_!" Annabelle snapped.

"And I wasn't even planning to go here. We were aiming for another planet entirely, and the TARDIS landed us here." The Doctor sounded irritated now, the cheerful manner instantly gone from his voice and demeanor.

Annabelle and Dean glared at the skinny alien. "Then get back in your little ship and aim for that planet again," Dean growled.

The Doctor shook his head, jaw set and dark brown eyes suddenly serious. "When the TARDIS lands me somewhere, it's usually for a reason. She doesn't always take me where I _want_ to go, but she takes me where I _need_ to go. So! You haven't had any unusual cases lately? Ones that don't match up to any particular mythological creature? I'm not the only alien that's visited Earth in recent—and not-so-recent years. And I won't be the last."

"No," Annabelle answered. "Besides you we haven't had a case where we've gotten stuck."

"Absolutely nothing has stood out," Sam added, still sounding happy

Rose eyed the Moose for a few seconds, then said, "Glad you're happy about that, and could you cool it with the fanboying? It's kinda creepy, considering the last fan group we ran into."

The Doctor shuddered. "Thanks for reminding me."

"Hey, it was _my mum_ they were stalking!"

"Like I said, didn't need the reminder." His eyes slid past the three hunters to the many bookshelves, and without waiting for an invitation, he practically glided over to the nearest one to check out the titles.

Annabelle and Sam quickly wedged themselves between him and the books. "These are ancient texts," Sam explained.

"We don't let anyone touch them and they're not to be opened unless necessary," Annabelle added.

"They love those books," Dean murmured to Rose.

"Figured," she muttered back.

The Doctor slipped on his glasses and trailed his fingers lightly over the spines. "How did you get a hold of them? These books, they're hundreds of years old. Forget knives, swords, guns, and silver bullets—this room is the best arsenal you could have."

"I remember you saying something about that," said Rose.

Annabelle watched his fingers carefully, looking almost nervous. "We know. They were here when we got here. Please be careful. They're really fragile."

He turned back, shot her a look that said, _Really? How stupid do you think I am?_ "I'm probably older than some of these—no, I definitely am. I'll be careful, promise." He slid one out from its place on the shelf, gently laid it down on a nearby table, and carefully opened the leather-bound cover.

Sam and Annabelle looked over his shoulder at the book. Annabelle said in an awed tone, "That one talks about the Cure."

"What's that, then?" Rose asked.

Annabelle turned to look at Rose. "If you do it right it turns demons into humans. It's one of my favorite things to do to demons when we have the time."

Rose blinked. "No kidding."

"Nope. It takes eight hours. The Men of Letters figured it out. It's amazing."

"She's right about that, Rose." The Doctor turned another page, let out a low whistle. "Your Men of Letters boys must have figured this out mostly through trial-and-error." His head snapped up, those brown eyes suddenly almost black. "If this was any other sentient species—if it was another _human_—the only appropriate word would be torture." The last word came out in a snarl. "Did it ever occur to your boys that some demons might not want to be changed back? Of course not. But then, they're not human to you lot, are they? They don't have any capability of making their own decisions; have to have their choices made for them even though they used to be human. Sort of like the Reavers—only _that_ process is irreversible."

"I'll have you know that it was not in fact through torture that they found this cure," Annabelle snapped at him, her irritation flaring. "It was through trial and error, but when there was an error there was a death." She stopped for a moment and put in the tape from one of the first attempts at the Cure and skipped to the end. There was screaming and an evil laugh. "The casualty there was the man who was trying to do the cure. He died. Demons kill. We fight back."

The Doctor said nothing, but his jaw worked furiously for a moment, dark eyes blazing. He knew his next few words had to be calm, diplomatic, must not—under any circumstances—include the phrase "you imbeciles".

Rose's hand was suddenly on his shoulder. "It's not so different from what you've had to do, Doctor. Remember the Dalek?"

His eyes slammed shut as he struggled to find control. "That _thing _killed hundreds of humans, killed so _many_ of my people. They're all _dead _because of the Time War—and _you_ stopped me from giving it what it deserved." He barked out a humorless half-laugh. "Exterminate." For a moment, with that word, his voice took on a Northern English accent. He was no longer in the bunker; he was back in Henry Van Statten's underground museum with a chained-up, powerless Dalek and _so many_ ways on hand to kill it.

"You do what's necessary to protect whoever you want to protect and we'll do what's necessary to protect our people," Annabelle said stiffly, sounding more like a soldier than a teenage girl.

"It's not like we kill for the fun of it," Sam added quietly.

Dark brown eyes snapped open. "Do you think I _wanted_ to kill _my own race_ for the _fun of it_?" the Doctor snarled. He stood straight up, whirled around to face them.

"No!" they all exclaimed in unison.

"Why would we think that?" Annabelle looked offended that he would think that they thought that.

"I don't know. You tell me. After all, I'm the alien here." His voice was biting, scathing. The Doctor knew he was being rude—more than rude, actually—but he didn't care. _Just back off before I snap._

"Yeah? Well no one wants to lose their family much less their _entire race_. No one is that cold."

He laughed again—and again, there was no humor in the sound. It was chilling. "Try telling that to the Master or the Rani. They could care less about committing genocide on their own kind. They've done it to several other races—but then, so have I. And I'm one of the _nice _ones." His eyes met each of theirs in turn, and his upper lip curled. "I'm called the Bringer of Darkness, the Oncoming Storm, and the Destroyer of Worlds. Why do you think that would be, hhhmmm?"

They all just stared. Finally Dean cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. "So . . . How did you meet Rose?"

Although the Doctor would never admit it, he was grateful for the change in topic. "I was tracking down some Autons in the department store where she worked. She came down into the basement—"

"Where some Autons had me cornered. He grabbed my hand, told me to run, and when I was safely out, he blew up my job."

"I looked completely different, of course. Big ears, daft nose, blue eyes and leather jacket."

"Long story short, I helped him defeat the Autons, and he asked me to travel with him. Then he took me to see the sun blow up."

"Occupational hazard in my kind of life."

Dean gave a small smile. "That doesn't sound too bad and she stuck with you. I might have to try that sometime."

"As if you have trouble picking up girls anyway," Sam muttered.

The Doctor and Rose exchanged smirks at that.

"I'm talking about a permanent girl, Sammy."

Annabelle's eyebrows shot up. "You? A long term relationship?"

"Why not?" Dean asked innocently.

"Oh . . . Um . . . No reason . . ."

The Doctor didn't bother hiding his smirk, his eyes sliding to look at Rose out of the corner of his eye.

Dean looked at the Doctor, noticing his smirk. "Don't tell me, you think that's a bad idea too."

The Time Lord quickly wiped the smirk of his face, replacing it with an astonished look. "What? Me? Um . . ." He looked to Rose for help. She just rolled her eyes and shot him a _You got yourself into this; I'm not getting you out _glare.

The Doctor shifted his attention back to Dean. "Well, maybe. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. How many hunters do you know who have a long-term relationship?"

Annabelle mouthed frantically, "Just say no."

"Okay, fine, no. Not really," the Doctor amended The look he gave Annabelle asked, "Satisfied?"

Annabelle made a cut-it-out movement but stopped when Dean looked at her. "Did you tell him to say that?" he asked.

"What? No . . .," she lied.

"Kid, you might be awesome at lying to monsters but you _suck_ at lying to me."

"Gee, thanks."

"Um, sorry?" the Doctor cut in.

"It's not like he's gonna ground me for telling you to say something."

"Maybe I will," Dean said jokingly.

Annabelle smirked. "Who's to say I won't sneak out?"

"I think you learned your lesson last time, kid."

"That's true."

The Doctor tilted his head, met them with a level stare that said he was waiting for the explanation.

"Last time I snuck out I got shot," Annabelle explained. Dean opened his mouth to say something but she stopped him with, "But it was only a flesh a wound. I was fine."

"You still went out without our permission _and_ after a demon," Sam reminded her. "What if you'd been captured?"

"With her powers?" The Doctor scoffed. "She could probably have talked it into killing itself. Or letting her go."

Rose shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glanced up at the Doctor with something close to apprehension in her eyes.

Annabelle didn't seem to notice. "See, I told you I could do it."

"The point," Dean said, "was to keep our location a secret."

"Yeah and he couldn't tell anyone where we were cuz he was dead," Annabelle retorted.

The Doctor, staring at Annabelle with narrowed eyes, murmured softly, "'There's nowhere to run, so let's just get it over. Soon I know you'll see you're just like me.' . . ."

"I'm sorry, what?" the teenager said, startled.

"It's a song. 'Snow White Queen.'"

"Never heard it."

"And you probably wouldn't want to. But in case you do, it's by Evanescence."

"I think I know one of their songs. 'Last Night', maybe?"

"'Bring Me to Life'?" Rose suggested, adding, "There's 'Call Me When You're Sober', 'My Immortal', 'Even in Death', 'Lithium', 'Sweet Sacrifice' . . ."

"That first one sounds right," said Annabelle. "I think I've heard 'My Immortal', too. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Rose smiled at her in that way only she could, and now the Doctor was the one restlessly shifting his weight. He said impatiently, "Yeah, well, if you two are done. . . ."

"You're the one who brought it up," Rose pointed out. "Literally."

"She has a point," Dean said.

"I just quoted it. You lot just didn't get the reference." He smiled crookedly, eyes landing on Annabelle again.

She met his gaze with a questioning but unafraid look.

"I don't listen to anything but what's in the Impala. Not my fault," Dean said.

The Doctor's gaze swept over the hunter. "From the looks of you, I'm guessing classic rock, yeah? Metallica, Def Leppard, Black Sabbath, Bon Jovi—because they rock on occasion—maybe some Whitesnake, Motley Crue, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Jethro Tull, Molly Hatchet. . . . Seen 'em all in concert once or twice. Rose's favorite was probably the leg of the Hysteria tour performed in Denver—you know, Def Leppard in the round." He shrugged. "Me, I prefer Ian Dury. Tried taking Rose to see Elvis once, and we ended up in 1950s England instead of America." They'd made the Elvis concert later, though, so all was forgiven.

"Yeah, classic rock is the best," Dean agreed. "The new stuff they're making sucks."

"Not _all_ of it," Annabelle protested. "I've gotten you to like some of my music."

The Time Lord's head tilted to the left; he ran a hand through his hair. "Actually, Evanescence and Shinedown are really good. Oh, and 2CELLOS—look up their covers of 'Thunderstruck', 'Smooth Criminal', and 'Welcome to the Jungle'."

"I'll think about it . . .,"Dean said.

The Doctor was on a roll now. "I mean, rock music! On cellos! And they're actually having a lot of fun and wrecking their bows in the process! How brilliant is that?!"

"Doctor?" Rose interrupted.

"What?"

"You're fanboying again."

". . . No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"You kind of are," Annabelle said, smirking teasingly at the Doctor.

"Oh, like you didn't fangirl when you first saw the Impala or when you see your favorite band or pretty-boy actor," he retorted.

"Actually, I don't. The Impala was a one time thing and I don't have time to know who's who in the acting world. I'm a little busy saving the world and avoiding death," she shot back.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Did I forget to mention I have no friends that are my age? And I move to a different town every other week?"

The skeptical expression was gone from the Doctor's face. "I know how that feels," he said softly, sympathetically. But for him and his companions, danger was the bits in between—or so he'd once told Jackie. He was starting to wonder if he wasn't right, because lately, every time the TARDIS had taken them somewhere there'd been danger.

Annabelle all but glared at him. "Don't give me that 'Poor lonely kid' look. I have Cas, Sam, and Dean. Sorry, but I don't accept sympathy. Sorry that you're the only one of your species left."

Irritation rose. "No, you're not," he bit out, turning away from her before he'd say something _else_ he'd regret. He was not scared of what Annabelle could do to him: he was scared of what _he_ could do to _her_.

"Doctor." Rose's tone was sharp, cutting; and he laughed inside his head. Oh, she _was_ just like her mother—in some small ways.

"I'm not? Really?" Annabelle pressed the attack. "Because I couldn't imagine being completely alone like that and _I am_ sorry that you are. Don't tell me I'm not. You can't tell me what I feel."

"And you don't know me—now or ever," he shot back.

"I know that, but I also know what you've told us about yourself."

"Bloody teenagers," the Doctor muttered; his hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn't meet her gray eyes, and when he did, his dark-brown eyes were almost completely black. Even Rose flinched back. "_Humans_!" The word was a low growl. _This is why I shouldn't talk so much, why I can't have nice things._ "You think you're the best species on this planet, in the galaxy. Always have to know everything—have to name something, to discover what makes it tick. And if you don't like it—or you find something in it for you—you end up killing it or fighting over it." But then, he'd done the same thing over so many of his lives. Still . . . The Time Lords had a long and honorable tradition of genocide when they thought the stakes were high enough. Timelooping whole races, going back in time to prevent them from ever existing, even fighting in the war against the vampires until they were all wiped out. . . . And then there was the Last Great Time War . . .

"Doctor." Rose's tone was deliberately soft, comforting. She stepped forward, rested one hand lightly on his right upper arm. Strange as it was, the gentle touch from this one human London shopgirl cut through the growing scarlet haze, anchored him.

_It's lucky for all of them I'm not a werewolf,_ he thought dryly. He had a hard enough time as it was struggling to control his darker nature.

Annabelle's eyes never left the Doctor's, and she didn't try to argue. She knew it was true. _Humans take but they have to defend themselves too. There's a reason hunters hunt._ She tilted her head, studying him. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet and calm with no hint of anger or frustration: "I won't argue with you; I just want to know why it makes you angry that I said I was sorry you're alone."

The Doctor shook his head slightly, opened his mouth to say something—but no words came out. His mouth closed. Instead, he was remembering another time, another place, with another girl commenting on how he's so alone—the Lonely God, she'd called him. Her lonely angel. His jaw tightened. Through gritted teeth he spit out, "I've had other experiences with people commenting on that—and they haven't been pleasant. One of them forced her way into my mind when I was looking into hers—and she did it _without_ my permission." His eyes darkened at the memory.

"Well I promise I won't invade your mind," Annabelle said.

"I'll hold you to that," he said gravely.

"Okay." Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, said, "Excuse me," and left the room to take the call.

"Wonder who that was," Sam muttered.

"Don't know," Rose said, shrugging.

"Is there anything else?" the Doctor asked brusquely.

"Or can we leave now?"

Annabelle poked her head in. "Sam, Dean, we've got a contact in town. Says he needs our help now."

"You guys can leave," Dean told the two time travelers. "We've gotta go." Sam and Dean exited the room, following Annabelle to the Impala.

The Doctor and Rose exchanged looks; then the Time Lord all but bolted to his TARDIS, leaving his pink-and-yellow girl to stumble after him. He slammed the key into the lock, turned it, opened the door . . . and then they were home free.

A mysterious breeze whipped around the room as a groaning noise filled the air. Then the Doctor and Rose Tyler were gone.


End file.
